The dark mist had barely dissipated from Lexianna's chamber floor before it coalesced again, three hallways down, in the shadowy alcove of the royal corridor.
Arkin was walking back from the Great Hall, the Shadow Guard dropped to one knee, matching his Prince's stride by materialising directly in his path.
"My Lord," he rasped.
Arkin didn't break his stride. He simply stopped, his dying-star eyes cutting down to the kneeling figure.
"Report."
"The work has been done, My Lord," Shadow stated, his voice devoid of inflection. He didn't hide the transaction. To hide a bribe from the Prince of the Wastelands was a guaranteed death sentence. "She hired me. She initiated a psychological campaign against the Fox Tribe."
Arkin's jaw twitched. A slow, dark amusement flickered in his eyes.
"And your assessment?" Arkin asked.
"She is a lot smarter than what the rumours suggest, My Lord," the Guard admitted, a rare note of genuine respect threading through his raspy voice. "She did not panic. She did not act on blind emotion. She calculates. And, in her own way... she is well-behaved."
Arkin scoffed.
Well-behaved. She had just used his own liquid capital to bribe his deadliest assassin into launching a plan against a foreign power, all from the comfort of his bedchamber. She was an absolute menace. A walking, talking liability.
Arkin smiled. He waved a dismissive hand, authorizing the insubordination.
"Go. Execute her orders exactly as she laid them out."
The Guard bowed his head, melting back into the stone floor.
Arkin stood alone in the corridor. He let out a long, heavy sigh, resting the back of his head against the cold wall.
The political meeting with his father had been a tedious, agonizing waste of time. All he could think about was the heavy, sweet scent of pineapple locked in his room. All he could think about was the way her silver tails had curled around his waist.
Now, knowing the sheer, ruthless intellect hiding behind that ethereal face?
He really wanted to devour her.
He closed his eyes, the feral Wolf inside him purring at the thought of complete, permanent ownership. The "pregnancy" was a lie. A shield. But the thought of making it a reality sent a surge of boiling heat straight to his core.
He imagined it. Pups. His pups, growing inside her.
Would they have her signature silver hair? he wondered, a dark, possessive thrill rushing through his veins. Or my black hair? Would they have nine tails and dying-star eyes?
A low, vibrating chuckle escaped his throat. It was a sound of pure, unhinged anticipation.
He pushed himself off the wall. It was time to get dressed. They had a banquet to attend.
***
The Great Hall of the Vaelxuan Palace was not designed for comfort. It was designed for war.
The ceiling was so high it disappeared into the shadows, held up by massive pillars carved with snarling demonic beasts. The long, sweeping tables were laden with roasted meats, exotic fruits, and chalices of spiced blood-wine.
Every high-born noble, every foreign dignitary, and every allied clan leader in the Demon Realm was present.
The dull roar of hundreds of conversations echoed through the hall.
Then, the massive iron-wrought doors at the entrance groaned open.
The herald slammed his staff against the floor. "Presenting His Royal Highness, Prince Arkin Vaelxuan! And his bonded bride, Princess Lexianna!"
The Great Hall went dead silent.
The music stopped. The clinking of jade cups ceased. Every single eye in the massive room snapped toward the entrance.
Lexianna stepped over the threshold.
She was dressed to kill. The layers of blood-red silk robe trailed behind her like spilled wine. The gold embroidery caught the flickering torchlight, practically setting her on fire. She was dripping in Arkin's wealth, heavy gold hairpins, teardrop ruby earrings, and a massive, flawless jade pendant resting against her collarbone.
But it wasn't the jewelry that drew their eyes.
It was the flame mark burning brightly on the side of her pale neck. And, more importantly, the protective, violently possessive way Arkin's massive hand rested flat against the small of her back.
The rumor had spread like wildfire. The Prince is back. He bonded with a Fox. And she is carrying his heir.
Lexianna didn't cower under the weight of a thousand stares. She practically thrived on it.
She walked into the Great Hall on Arkin's arm with the posture of a woman who owned the building and everyone inside it. Her chin was high. Her silver eyes were sharp, scanning the room with cold, detached arrogance. Her nine tails swayed behind her in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
She was the ultimate untouchable asset.
As they walked down the center aisle toward the high table, Lexianna aggressively checked the room. She noted the terrified whispers, the bowed heads, the envy radiating from the women she had encountered in the garden.
Then, her gaze locked onto a table situated near the front.
The Fox Tribe delegation.
The corporate mask almost slipped into a genuine, vicious grin.
Sitting near the center of the table was an older, distinguished man with greying red hair, the Fox King. To his right sat a young woman with pristine, golden-blonde hair framing her beautiful face. She wore pure white silk robes, the traditional garb of the Clan's Saintess.
Sylvanna. Her treacherous half-sister.
Around her neck hung a familiar, glowing moonstone amulet. Lexianna's amulet. The one stolen from her corpse.
The reaction at the Fox table was a masterpiece of horror.
The Fox King's jaw was unhinged. His face was the color of curdled milk. The wine chalice in his hand was trembling so violently the red liquid was spilling all over his expensive robes.
Sylvanna looked like she had just been stabbed. Her eyes were bugging out of her head, her perfectly rouged lips parted in a silent, hyperventilating gasp. She was staring at Lexianna like she was looking at a ghost.
Because she was.
They had thrown her into a ravine filled with netherbeasts. They had watched her die from the Soul-Wither poison. They had erased her from the clan registry.
And now, the ghost had returned, draped in billionaire wealth, wearing the absolute protection of the royal bloodline on her neck, holding the leash of the deadliest predator in the universe.
Total market crash.
Lexianna felt Arkin's hand tighten slightly on her waist. He had tracked her line of sight. He felt the sudden, icy spike in her aura.
"Them?" Arkin murmured, his voice a low, lethal vibration meant only for her ears.
"Them," Lexianna confirmed softly.
Arkin didn't break stride, but his trajectory shifted. Instead of walking straight to the King's high table, he guided her directly toward the Fox Tribe delegation.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea. The silence in the hall was so thick it was suffocating. Everyone watched the Prince and his new Bride approach the very clan that had supposedly cast her out.
The Fox King practically choked on his own spit as Arkin's massive shadow fell over their table. The minor elders sitting nearby scrambled to stand, bowing so low they nearly smashed their faces into the roasted pork.
Sylvanna couldn't stand. Her legs had completely lost their function. She remained glued to her chair, her golden eyes locked onto the silver-haired demoness standing before her.
Lexianna detached herself slightly from Arkin's side.
She took one deliberate, echoing step forward. She looked down at her half-sister. She looked at the stolen moonstone amulet. She looked at the terror in Sylvanna's eyes.
Lexianna didn't raise her voice. She didn't summon her tails to choke anyone. She didn't need to. Her very existence in this room was a death sentence for their entire operation.
She tilted her head, offering a slow, blood-red smile.
"Hi, sister," Lexianna said, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Surprised to see me alive?"